


Changing Hands

by Tzalmavet



Category: Find Me (OFF Fangame)
Genre: (if you're reading this fic and you haven't tried Find Me's demo yet then wyd??), Gen, Mind Control, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-08 10:05:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12862233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tzalmavet/pseuds/Tzalmavet
Summary: The Batter is confronted with a new guardian, and a disturbing question about where he places his loyalties.





	Changing Hands

**Author's Note:**

> **NOTE as of 4/20/2018:** This fic was written before _Find Me_ demo 3.2 was released, so the tiny part with the doll puzzle is different. The puzzle was changed in the game due to a game-breaking glitch some people encountered (and I thankfully didn't), but I'm leaving the original puzzle in this fic because I don't feel like rewriting it. So, if you've read this fic and haven't played _Find Me_ demo 3.0 or any of its demos before that and are thus a little confused about that part of the story, here's your explanation on that tiny detail.

The Batter pushed the doll across the stage floor.  It was heavy.  _All_ of the dolls were heavy.  What were they full of, lead?  He wasn't tired yet, but he would be soon and hoped his puppeteer was close to figuring this puzzle out.

He pushed it onto one of the lighter spots on the floor, and the lights shut off.  The Batter backed away, keeping alert.  A spotlight shone down, revealing the dolls had been moved from where he'd so painstakingly placed them.  Whatever.  Many things he had to do to progress his quest were pointless and frustrating.

Then, he noticed something start to descend from the ceiling.  It looked like a very peculiar man-- dressed in a mask, top hat, and a flashy black and purple outfit.  He was missing most of his right leg, and his hands looked too big for his arms.  He hovered in midair before the Batter, looking down at him with glowing eyes.  The man turned his stare upwards, towards the spot of ceiling directly above the Batter, and the Batter at once recognized that he intended to speak to the puppeteer.

"Welcome, my dearest friends!" the man said, "It fills me with joy to gaze upon you with my own eyes at last."  
"Ah, but how rude of me to not introduce myself! I am Jadon, the guardian of the Entertainment District! At your service!"  A guardian?  No thanks.  The Batter had fought and purified three guardians already, and didn't like where this was going.

"I must confess my heart is aflutter upon seeing your puppet's righteous image up close," Jadon crooned, looking him up and down.  "Yes, he shall do very nicely once we are done here."  Yeah, _no thanks._   

"Ah, but first we must prepare for the show! It has been too long since this theatre has had such an opportunity!"  Jadon made a dramatic, sweeping gesture.  "Your puppet shall fit into a very special role. But I sense some hesitation, perhaps a bit of stage fright even. Fear not, for this shall be an easy task for the both of you!"

...Was Jadon suggesting what the Batter _thought_ he was suggesting?

"You do not have to lift a finger, my dear. Well, aside from pressing on those little keys of yours, of course. You can say you shall be the one to allow the story to unfold. Your puppet shall steal the show! The crowd will love him, I assure you. He cuts a handsome image."

He _was._

Jadon wanted to take control of him for his little play, and was asking the puppeteer for permission to do so.

"What do you say?" he asked.  "Are you ready to begin?"

Silence.  The Batter turned up his nose at the guardian.  Pfff, _the very idea._   His puppeteer wouldn't hand his reins over to someone so brazenly impure, not even for a second.  The spiritual bond he shared with them was unbreakable, held fast by a singular, shared desire for purification.  They wouldn't lend him to Jadon any sooner than they'd drop him into a meat grinder.

"Ahh, excellent!" Jadon suddenly said, "I knew you would agree eventually! Now then, let us begin!"

_What?_

"Now, if you would be so kind as to hold still for just a moment..."

Before the Batter could even blink, there was a flash of light, and Jadon had him caught like a bug.

**_Oh._ **

His rightful puppeteer's presence was familiar, a helping hand with reasonable suggestions, a subtle, gentle influence over him that he often barely noticed, with plenty of room to stretch his legs inside of.

Jadon's power sank in too quick to resist, and its grip was _hard._   It was a lecherous caress, feeling him over and over, close enough to breathe down his neck.  It made his flesh crawl, insects under his skin, holding his insides so tightly that it was as though Jadon could stop his breathing or crush his heart with a single thought.

 _"Perfect,"_ Jadon laughed, and the Batter could feel it in the marrows of his bones.  "It feels amazing having my strings wrapped around such a lovely specimen. I would go so far as to say it is exhilarating."

"I now have control over your precious puppet," Jadon said, "I can make him do whatever I please!"  Snakes slithered over each other in the Batter's limbs as he was forced to parade across the stage for Jadon.  The Batter tried to dig his heels into the stage floor, wrench enough of himself aside to tell his puppeteer to take him back _right now,_ but he couldn't even get his eyes to turn.

"I can even feel him struggling a bit against my control."  Jadon pulled the Batter to a stop.  "How utterly delightful."  His voice restrained it, but the Batter knew _exactly_ how much he meant those words as they dripped over him, thickening the bonds and making him lightheaded.  "I thank you, my dear, for without your consent I would not have the key to making my latest masterpiece."

_Why?_

Why had his puppeteer done this?  They were on his side, weren't they?  Everything he'd done, he'd done with them at his side, shining a light to guide his footsteps.  They knew he was utterly lost without them.  He'd trusted them with his body, his life, his very soul, and they gave him _this._   The Batter's heart dropped like a stone.  What if even _they_ weren't pure?

"Oh, but we still have a show to perform! I let my excitement get the better of me."  The Batter was led backstage, and didn't listen to what more was being said to his puppeteer.  He left the radius that he knew their vision spanned, and desperately hoped that Jadon's play would be a short one.

* * *

The Batter stepped onto the stage right on queue, bending to delicately hold the hand of the red-dressed doll; it too was moved about the scene by Jadon's magic.  He felt weird and numb, almost as though everything was underwater as he recited his lines, and almost as though he really _did_ own that huge, wondrous mansion that Jadon spoke of.

He dressed the dolls in finer clothes and drifted across the stage, hovering over them with what, to a stranger, would resemble sincere caring.  Then, something changed.  He felt _anger._   Hot, vicious anger building inside of him, far from the clean white fury of purification.  It shook his hands and turned his vision red as he screamed at the four dolls.  He couldn't make it stop, every move they made flaying every nerve he had, and he swung his bat into the floor and props of the set as they cowered.

The red-dressed doll stood up, approaching the Batter, and a wave of hatred practically flattened him.  He tried to keep a piece of his brain above it, in reality-- but Jadon's grip tightened, laughing and pushing him over the boiling point, filling his head with _how dare you, how dare you, **how dare you.**_

The Batter smashed his bat over the doll's head.  He didn't question the splatter of blood, only knew that it gave slight release to the rage threatening to tear him in half.  He kept swinging, tossing the bodies of the dolls around and beating their ruined bodies in a daze until Jadon pulled him back from it, clearing his head and turning him around.

 _"A mistake that would surely be his last,"_ he heard Jadon say.  The Batter felt disoriented and sore, cold water poured onto the hot stove of his mind, but his senses snapped back into focus when a wet, squelching, cracking noise came from behind him.

 _"From the corpses of the sisters sprung forth vicious monsters, intent on seeking revenge on the one who had brought them such great pain and sorrow."_   Monsters?  The urge to purify reared its head and lent him its strength.  The Batter at once made to turn and strike them again, but his body wouldn't respond.

 _"The man turned to face the creatures, bodies drenched in the viscera of the poor, innocent sisters that birthed them."_   His legs moved agonizingly slow.  He saw the creatures, risen, blood-soaked, from the bodies of the dolls, black and twisted in form.  They grinned with sharp teeth, growling, taunting him.

_"He moved to strike them, but he moved a second too late."_

The Batter was frozen where he stood as the four of them lashed out with their tendrils, hitting him full-force.  They slashed his midsection and left arm clean through in one hit and, before he could even hit the ground, cut him again.  The Batter collapsed, body sliced apart.  This was awfully painful for a stupid play, he thought.  Bleeding out on the floor certainly wasn't entertaining from his end of it.  He finally heard Jadon bring the story to a close, and waited.

"Oh dear... It appears our lovely actors took their role too seriously," Jadon said, "Your precious puppet is in pieces!"  Well, Jadon wasn't _completely_ wrong about that.  The Batter attempted to use a healing competence to fix the injuries, but he couldn't get the energy to flow.  He uncomfortably realized that the weight of Jadon's power still sat on top of him, preventing him from taking an action.

"No matter, what remains of him can be remade into something better. He will be absolutely perfect. You are no longer needed, my dear. I suggest you simply shut the game off and go about your day as if none of this ever happened."

**_...No._ **

No, no, _no!! **He wasn't dead!**_   It was a trick!  He just needed a Fortune Ticket or a simple healing competence, and he'd be fine!  The Batter wanted to show his puppeteer that he could still complete his mission, to shake his one remaining arm or cry out, give them a sign that he was still alive, but it was hopeless.  His limbs were pinned to the floor, and his jaw was wired shut.  
Damn it, he was losing too much blood.  The Batter breathed shallowly.  He couldn't tell if his puppeteer was still there or not.  He could feel Jadon's gaze on him, leering, victorious.  The Batter's vision began to darken, senses fading.  This was it.  His mission had failed.  He was going to die alone in this horrible place, his remains left to Jadon's mercy, his final feeling of being trapped drowning miles beneath the hideous, unholy power churning inside his body.

At least there was a light at the end of it.  A nice, blue light.  The Batter let it cloud him over, and noticed a strange sensation.

His severed limbs reattached themselves and he gasped, fully repaired.  His legs brought him to his feet, and he recognized a familiar presence wrapped around him.

_His puppeteer._

Gone was Jadon's influence, its filling his every crevice, replaced with his _true_ puppeteer's cool, distant grasp.  It was sweet relief, reassuring him, holding him softly enough for him to breathe and blink and squeeze his bat in his fist.  The change was so sudden, the tension released leaving him feeling almost like he could lean back into his puppeteer's arms and fall asleep, and they would keep his body safe.

He almost didn't hear Jadon shout, "You think you can just take him back after giving him to me? I should say not!"

Jadon's magic splashed against the Batter again.  Its long fingers dragged down his chest, but they didn't penetrate him.  He was still securely under his puppeteer's control.  The Batter still shuddered, though, and Jadon's hands curled into fists.

"Why isn't it working anymore?! What did you do to him?!" Jadon screamed.  The Batter didn't know either, but he didn't care as long as it kept up.  "...Very well. The show is over for now. You performed so well, my dear. Your reward... shall be death!"

Jadon vanished into the shadows, and the four monsters that had shredded the Batter before roared.  The Batter felt his puppeteer tap his feet into position; he lifted his bat, and he and his Add-ons rushed forwards.  Together they purified the beasts without a hitch, and Jadon spoke again.

"You must think you are so clever, taking back your puppet," said Jadon.  "It is no matter, for I will have him to myself soon enough. Next time you will not regain control so easily. I will make sure of it. Until then, take good care of him. Wouldn't want his body to go to waste. We shall speak again."

And Jadon was gone.  The Batter was still for a moment, and his puppeteer led him towards the save block at the entrance.

The Batter didn't know how to feel.  On one hand, they were back on track to completing his purificatory mission.  On the other, his puppeteer had _betrayed_ him.  They'd fed him headfirst into the jaws of a monster, without warning or reason.  He wasn't sure that they could be trusted to guide him in his quest, anymore, or if they ever should have.  He didn't want to be at the mercy of a force that would throw him away at the drop of a hat.

...But he couldn't do it by himself.  The puppeteer's grip on him was loose enough for him to squirm out of and run away if he really wanted, but then there was _Jadon,_ probably still watching, waiting to scoop him up and do Heaven-knows-what to him.  There were all of the spectres that beat him senseless until his puppeteer turned off 'Auto' and told him what to do.  All of the puzzles that he didn't understand in the slightest, even as he'd carried out their solutions with his own hands.

And he'd be lying if he said he wasn't grateful to be back under their control, after being under Jadon's.  Theirs was a comfortable embrace, and the Batter didn't want to leave it.  He never wanted to feel the way he had when Jadon had taken him over  _ever_ again.  He could feel none of that sickness, that impurity, in the arms of the one who'd led him here.

The Batter sighed as he rested his hand on the save block, and his wounds from the fight were healed.  He told himself that this was just a nasty bump in the road.  He was on a holy mission, and there were bound to be times when his faith was tested.

Their progress saved, the Batter quietly obeyed his puppeteer's command to walk back onto the stage.

**Author's Note:**

> Whenever I play _Find Me_ I always feel so BAD about having to hand the Batter over to Jadon, but the dialogue box options give you no other choice...


End file.
